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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27205036">Paint It Black</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kate_Shepard/pseuds/Kate_Shepard'>Kate_Shepard</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Red and Black [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mass Effect Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Mindoir, Minor Original Character(s), Origin Story</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:13:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,863</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27205036</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kate_Shepard/pseuds/Kate_Shepard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lukas Shepherd likes his life on Mindoir. It's not perfect, but he's got his brothers and his boyfriend. He can't imagine wanting anything else. But when batarians raid the colony and take everything he loves, he's forced to find a new path, one that will eventually cross with someone who will change his life.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Male Shepard/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Red and Black [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1986157</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. God, Your Mama, and Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>You better believe my love is never gonna run dry, never gonna come up empty. Now until the day I die, unconditionally. You know I'm always gonna be here for ya. No one's ever gonna love you more than God, your mama, and me.</p><hr/><p>The sound of sneakers slapping on the tile floor was the only warning Lukas Shepherd got before a familiar weight landed on his back and a pair of arms wrapped around his neck. He laughed, turning a circle, and tipped his head back for Jameson’s kiss before one of the teachers snapped her fingers at them and pointed to the ‘No PDA’ sign on the corridor wall. Lukas rolled his eyes but put Jameson down. </p><p>“What are you doing after school?” Lukas asked.</p><p>“Watching you run drills,” Jameson said in his crisp Irish accent. </p><p>They were the first generation born on the colony, so there hadn’t been time for a ‘Mindoirian’ accent to solidify. Their generation’s weren’t usually as strong as their parents’, but it was still enough to be distinctive. Lukas thought it was strange that the way they spoke originated on an alien planet and not his own and that they could pinpoint which part of that planet it came from even though none of them had ever been there. His own accent was something his parents called "Yorkshire," and his younger brother signed in British English. His friends Yakov and Johnny both spoke English but with almost unintelligibly different accents even though they'd lived in the same settlement their entire lives. </p><p>Earth was weird.</p><p>“You want to come sit in a cold rink just to watch me skate back and forth?” Lukas asked, secretly pleased. It wasn’t like he hadn’t gone to J’s baseball practices, but drills were boring.</p><p>“I don’t think you realize how hot you look on the ice,” Jameson told him. “And if it’s cold, you’ll just have to warm me up after, won’t you?”</p><p>“Hell, yeah.”</p><p>Lukas draped an arm around his shoulders and sauntered into the classroom with him. Bio, so they were at the same table, which meant they could write notes back and forth on their computers without the teacher noticing. </p><p>They’d tried the built-in messenger in a different class once and ended up with the whole conversation displayed for the class. That was the last time they’d done that, though Jameson's mom, Linda, had flipped shit on the teacher for outing him in the process. He hadn’t been trying to hide it, but she’d said the teacher had taken his choice away about it. Mum had just scolded him for not paying attention. </p><p>It was a normal, boring day until the sirens kicked up outside and the alarm bell started screeching. Metal shutters trundled down on tracks over the windows, sealing them, and the door clicked as the lock activated. </p><p>Even though it happened every few months and they’d reminded the students of it that morning, his heart kicked for a moment until the principal’s voice came over the P.A., ensuring them that it was just a drill.</p><p>At the front of the room, Ms. Boyd said, “Remain calm and clear your desks, please.”  </p><p>He and Jameson stowed their computers and cleared the desk off. Together, they lifted it onto its side and positioned it so that it created a barrier between them and the door, the solid panels on three sides making a box that fit against the wall and enclosed them inside. </p><p>The P.A. droned, “Lockdown. Lockdown. Attention, Felicity High School. This is a drill. All students, please report to your nearest safe zone. Repeat, this is a drill.” </p><p>Lukas was too tall for the damn thing. Even on his ass, he had to duck his head to keep it from hitting the top. He cursed it until Jameson tucked up between his legs, wrapping Lukas’ arms around him, and then decided it wasn’t that bad after all. He rested his chin on the smaller boy’s shoulder, feeling him shake. </p><p>“You okay, babe?” Lukas asked.</p><p>“I hate raid drills,” Jameson admitted quietly. “I know it’s not real, but it still scares me. What if they do come here?”</p><p>“I’ll keep you safe,” Lukas promised, waking his omnitool so they could see each other.</p><p>Jameson tipped his head up to look at him. “Don’t tell anybody.”</p><p>“You can tell me every secret that you been keeping,” Lukas sang softly. “I'll hold it, lock and key. Up with you all night, holding you all night, I never leave. My love is never gonna run dry, never gonna come up empty….”</p><p>“You’re a dork, you know that, right?” Jameson whispered, leaning back into him. </p><p>“Mmhm. Don’t be scared, babe. It’s kinda cozy in here. Could almost go to sleep.”</p><p>“Don’t do that,” Jameson warned. “As heavy as you sleep, you’d wake up and we’d all be gone and you’d be wondering if the rapture came and left you behind.”</p><p>Lukas laughed, shaking his head. It was true. He slept like the dead. Mum said she didn’t know what she was going to do with him when he left home because he’d never wake up on time for work or class on his own without someone to slap him. Even Andrew’s mattress shaker didn’t always do it, and it shook the whole bunk. They’d shared a room since they were little because Lukas needed his alarm so loud Da said he was going to give Matt and John Thomas PTSD from being woken so harshly every morning.</p><p>“You’d wake me up,” he said. </p><p>“Unless I go crazy here in the dark,” Jameson said lightly. </p><p>“You’re already crazy.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah. I’ll be fine, then.”</p><p>“That’s the spirit, love.”</p><p>“Do you think the batarians attack other species, too, or just us?” he asked.</p><p>Lukas shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably others, too, unless there are rules and they follow them.”</p><p>“D’you think they’re afraid, too? The other aliens?”</p><p>“I don’t know. I’ve never met one.”</p><p>Jameson was still trembling, so he scooted the boy forward and turned him so they were facing each other, pulling him into his lap and wrapping the other boy’s legs around his waist. He knew at least one way to distract him. And it would be a hell of a lot more fun than sitting here in the dark. </p><p>Jameson melted into him when Lukas’ mouth found his. An arm slid around his neck, a hand slid around his waist to tuck into his back pocket. Lukas groaned softly, his tongue delving into the other boy’s willing mouth. There was only so much they could do since these drills didn’t usually last too long, but at least now he was shaking for a good reason. </p><p>“I love you, Luke,” Jameson whispered, trailing his lips over Lukas’ jaw and down his neck.</p><p>“I love you, too, J.”</p><p>Jameson’s teeth scraped over his ear, and he shuddered, pulling the boy’s groin tight against his. If they weren’t careful, the whole class was going to know what they were doing. Especially if he flared blue as he sometimes did when they were messing around. But it felt too good to stop. He stroked a hand over Jameson, and J tucked his face against Lukas’ neck to stifle a moan. </p><p>The alarm stopped.</p><p>“Shit,” Jameson muttered. “Now everybody’s going to see I’ve got a hardon.”</p><p>“Use the desk for cover,” Lukas suggested. </p><p>Jameson climbed out of his lap and they pushed the desk away from the wall, turning it back onto its feet and fetching their chairs. The door unlocked. The windows trundled up. Outside, the air raid sirens whined out. </p><p>Within moments, their computers were back on their desks and Ms. Boyd was in front of the projection screen. Their desk was at the back of the room, so when Lukas slid his hand into Jameson’s pants to finish him off, nobody was the wiser.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>God, Your Mama, and Me by Florida Georgia Line ft. Backstreet Boys https://youtu.be/-s2N037EE4A<br/>Cover image from Pinterest</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Gonna Know We Were Here</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ain't scared to ride this train, make a few marks, leave a few stains. Might slam just a little too hard. Might take it just a little too far. Might burn out like a firework, like a shooting star across the sky. Yeah we may not be around in 20 years, but they're sure gonna know we were here.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Onstage, Lukas held the microphone between his fingers, his voice soaring through the squat little building. His mother, Hannah, looked up at him, her eyes gleaming with a mix of fervor and pride. His father, Adam, stood off to the side, a hand raised toward the ceiling. The pews were half-filled with people of varying ranges of devotion. Some were here only because there was little else to do in Felicity on a Sunday morning. Others were as devout as his parents. One was there just for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He winked at Jameson as he finished the song and walked rather than jogging down the steps from the stage as he’d have preferred to do. Taking a seat with his friends, he surreptitiously slipped his hand into his boyfriend’s and habitually toned out his father. Da wasn’t the only preacher on Mindoir, but he was the only one in Felicity, and he viewed it as his responsibility to save their souls. Lukas figured his soul was fine just as it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His triplet brothers, Matthew and John Thomas, looked as bored as he felt. Their little brother, Andrew James—not A.J.; they weren’t supposed to call him that any more than they were allowed to call John Thomas J.T.—sat where he could see Mum, who signed the sermon for him. Behind her, Lukas released Jameson’s hand and signed a parody until he caught Da’s eye and earned himself a glower. Matt snickered and signed below their father’s eye level. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Sucks to be you.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Shut up.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morning stretched into noon, and his stomach started to rumble. Da would keep them there for as long as he could hold their attention. Judging by the impatient shifting around him, that wouldn’t be much longer. He wouldn’t be here in the first place if he wasn’t the preacher’s son and required to. But once they were finished, he was free for the day. Which meant he could hang out with Jameson.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment Da released them, the boys bounded out of the chapel, whooping as they piled into Jameson’s mom’s convertible and sped out of the parking lot. He’d catch hell for that later, but who cared? He and his brothers heard plenty of sermons at home. They didn’t need to waste their weekend with it, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where to?” Jameson asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Horses,” Matthew said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Movies,” John Thomas piped up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only if you sign for A.J.,” Lukas said. “I did church.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That didn’t count,” Matt said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Dirt bikes,’ Andrew signed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jameson looked over at Lukas. “What do you want to do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dirt bikes,” Lukas decided.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jameson grinned and gunned it out of town. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His boyfriend was a study in contradictions. Small and wiry with wild sandy hair, dark eyes too  big for his face, and an angelic face that would probably look young well into adulthood, Lukas had overlooked him for years, thinking he was too young for him. It wasn’t until Jameson had stalked up to him at a party, grabbed him by the ears, and kissed him until his head spun and his knees were weak that he’d given him the time of day. When Lukas had answered what took him so long to notice him, Jameson had pointed out they were both sixteen and had grown up together, which made Lukas feel like a total idiot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He might look like a cute little angel, but Jameson had more confidence than anyone Lukas had ever met, a mischievous streak a kilometer wide, and—his fear of raid drills notwithstanding—was an unrepentant adrenaline junkie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mother, Linda, was a doctor, and Lukas would bet she’d lost count of the bones she’d set and cuts and scrapes she’d patched up for all of them. When Jameson had dared him to jump off the roof onto the trampoline and he’d shattered his elbow, she’d been the one to put it back together. She never complained or forbade them from anything, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jameson’s parents were much cooler than his own. She’d even provided them with condoms when they’d started sleeping together. Embarrassing, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> parents had just told him he’d go to hell if he had premarital sex, so at least she was cool about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jameson parked in his own driveway and they piled out, running into the house just long enough to exchange their church clothes for the outfits they’d brought with them and high-five Jameson’s dad on the way out to the back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jameson’s father collected dirtbikes, and he didn’t care if the boys used them. He didn’t even care if they messed them up as long as they came over and helped him fix them. What little Lukas knew about mechanics, he’d learned from Richard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They raced out to the barn, grabbing a bike and leaping on, walking it out to the track cut into the massive backyard. Lukas reached over and pulled Jameson in for a kiss before putting the boy’s helmet on his head and buckling the strap. Jameson rolled his eyes and tugged Lukas’ down onto his own head. They clacked the helmets together at the forehead and cranked up the bikes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew signed over his head, ‘Last one around buys the pizza!’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lukas gunned it, back tire skidding as he turned onto the track and straightening it out. The sharp buzz of the bikes filled his ears and dust filled the air as they zoomed around the track, soaring over jumps and leaping berms. Andrew had the lead for the first half, but Lukas and Jameson overtook him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jameson flashed a challenging grin and kicked up more speed, pulling ahead. Lukas chased, running to reckless and beyond, but Jameson had the home field advantage and sped across the line a wheel ahead of Lukas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jameson stopped and pulled his helmet off. “You’ll have to do better than that if you want to beat me, boyo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should have a handicap,” Lukas said, pulling up beside him and removing his helmet. “You ride this every day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jameson shrugged innocently. “I mean, if you can’t win on your own…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lukas jumped off the bike, but Jameson anticipated him and was already darting away. On foot, however, Lukas’ long legs gave him the advantage. He barreled into the other boy, scooping him up over his shoulder and spinning him around until they were both dizzy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He put him down when Jameson slapped his back, sliding the boy down his body and looping an arm around his waist. He grinned down at him, humming softly, and swaying in a slow dance. Jameson rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“People talk, you know damn well, when they got a good tale to tell. Let's give them something they ain't never seen, a little rated R redneck dream,” Lukas sang.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh huh. So that’s what you want,” Jameson teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lukas ignored him. “Let's blaze a trail through the dirty south or give them something they can talk about, a little story that they won't forget long after we ride off into the sunset. ‘Cause we ain't dead yet, baby.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One of these days, you’ll learn to say your feelings instead of singing them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, thanks,” he laughed, nuzzling him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His boyfriend’s smile had made his heart skip a beat for months now, and today was no different.  If there was anything in this world he’d thank God for, it was this right here.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Gonna Know We Were Here by Jason Aldean https://youtu.be/40fbGCM_JjA</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Hold the Light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If it wasn't known, that our love will carry on, I will be the wind that echoes on the canyon wall. One more day with you, to walk around our neighbourhood. We will never know like it was understood. We never say goodbye. Just let me hold the light.</p><hr/><p> </p><p>Lukas stumbled into the room he shared with Andrew and tossed his hockey gear in the corner. His brother would bitch if he left it there, but at the moment, he was at the auditory specialist with Da and Mum in New Paris. It was Friday, so Matthew had gone to Luna’s, and John Thomas would be at the library. For now, he had the house all to himself.</p><p>Lukas had stayed at Jameson’s the night before, working on a bio project. At least, that’s what he’d told his parents, and Linda had confirmed. What it really meant was that they’d been up till almost dawn taking advantage of the fact that Jameson’s bedroom was the only one downstairs. Then J had woken him up after only a couple hours so he could go to the first of his two-a-day practices before school, then he’d gone to class all day, and then another practice. He was beat. </p><p>He pulled the window shade, casting the room into darkness, and flopped face down on his bunk. If he wrapped his arms around his pillow and pretended he was cuddling Jameson, well, that was his own business. </p><p>He vaguely considered rubbing one out, but that felt like too much effort, so he gave into the exhaustion tugging him down and drifted into a sleep plagued by nightmares. Gunfire and earthquakes, the sharp tang of smoke, the scream of the air raid sirens and neighbors. By the time he woke, he was grateful for consciousness.</p><p>Somehow, he’d managed to thrash himself off the bed. He found himself lying on the floor in the dark, the smoky odor from his dreams still lingering in his nostrils. Shaking his head to clear it, he pushed to his knees and untangled himself from the blanket. Behind the shade, the sky was dark. He must’ve slept longer than he intended.</p><p>He stumbled out of his room in search of his family, but the house was silent. It was night. They should have been back by now. He turned a slow circle, running his hands through his hair and trying to regain his bearings. The clock on the wall caught his eye.</p><p>It was only six. The sun wouldn’t set until almost ten. Unless he’d slept all night and it was morning, but it should be dawn and there was no light illuminating the curtains. No one was in their rooms, either. </p><p>
  <em> What the hell? </em>
</p><p>He activated his omni-tool and blinked at the sheer number of missed calls and texts. Thirty-two from Mum. Twelve from Da. Another nine from Matt and half a dozen from John Thomas. Sixty-seven calls and messages from Jameson. Four texts from Andrew. </p><p>
  <em> Fucking Christ. What did I miss? </em>
</p><p>Jameson’s joke about him waking up to think the rapture happened and he’d been left behind echoed in his mind, but he pushed it aside. No way. Someone would have come for him. </p><p>He opened the messages from Jameson. </p><p>&gt;Where are you?</p><p>&gt;<em> Missed calls: 3 </em></p><p>&gt;Are you safe?</p><p>&gt;<em> Missed calls: 2 </em></p><p>&gt;Jesus Christ, it’s not a drill.</p><p>&gt;<em> Missed calls: 7 </em></p><p>&gt;Omg they’re coming. Are you asleep? You know I was joking about you sleeping through the apocalypse, right?</p><p>&gt;<em> Missed calls: 27 </em></p><p>&gt;Lukas? I’m scared. Please wake up. Wake the fuck up. I’m scared. I’m so fucking scared. </p><p>&gt;<em> Missed calls: 23 </em></p><p>Fear wrapped around his throat and squeezed the air from his chest. On leaden feet, he trudged to the window, dread weighting his hand as he lifted it to the curtain. The smell of smoke still hung in the air. </p><p>He didn’t want to know. </p><p>He pulled back the curtain.</p><p>Hell. He was in hell. He’d died in his sleep and woken in hell, just like Da said he would for shagging Jameson before they got married. Before even knowing if he wanted to get married. That was the only explanation.</p><p>The whole world was on fire. The sky was burning. The middle of the afternoon, and it was dark as pitch but for the infernal glow. A dog ran down the street, barking piteously. Its coat was singed to the skin. </p><p>Nothing else moved.</p><p>He called Jameson. No answer. He called Mum. No answer. Da. No answer. His brothers. No answer. On a whim, he tried his hockey coach. No answer. Running to the noteboard near the refrigerator, he found the number for the doctor in New Paris. </p><p>The line rang and rang.</p><p>The whole world couldn’t be dead. </p><p>Could it?</p><p>He didn’t know what to do. Hands buried in his hair, he stood in the kitchen, trembling like the last leaf of autumn. Fear like nothing he’d ever experienced before lanced through him. What did he do? Was he even awake?</p><p>
  <em> God, if you’re there, please wake me up. I don’t like this dream. Someone, please wake me up. </em>
</p><p>Nothing changed. He couldn’t just sit here wondering. He had to get to Jameson. He had to find his brothers.</p><p>He’d need a weapon. Da had a shotgun in a safe, but he didn’t have the combination. Even so, it wasn’t until he was creeping down the street with his knuckles white around it that he realized grabbing his hockey skate was probably not the best idea he could come up with and that he should have just gotten a knife or hammer or something instead. The blade on the skate was sharp, but it wasn’t exactly a weapon, and he didn’t know how to use his biotics to do anything but glow because Da and Mum wouldn’t get him an amp.</p><p>He kept close to the houses on his side of the street, breathing through a shirt he’d tied around his nose and mouth to filter the thick smoke. His side hadn’t burned. He didn’t know why. Hell, he didn’t know why the others had. There weren’t any bodies. He didn’t see any alien spaceships anywhere. Even the library and shops that were still standing were empty. It was like the whole settlement had just vanished. </p><p>He found the bodies in the square near the courthouse on his way to Jameson’s. They were corralled in pens, shot where they stood or cowered or sat or held their children. The bodies had been burned so badly he couldn’t tell if they were friends or neighbors or complete strangers. </p><p><em> Please don’t be someone I know</em>. Not that it was possible. Felicity wasn’t small enough that everyone knew everything about everybody else, but it wasn’t so big that they didn’t at least recognize each other. </p><p>The community bunker was inside the courthouse. The doors were still sealed, but there was a massive hole blasted into the wall. Chunks of concrete skittered across the floor from his feet as he cautiously entered. Empty but for one woman. The librarian. She’d been shot in the chest.</p><p>He might not be able to recognize them, but he knew everyone in that pen. And if the librarian was here, then John Thomas had been, too. The realization made him sick, and he stumbled outside to throw up in what was left of Mrs. Thom’s prize begonias. </p><p>“J.T. Fucking hell, J.T.” </p><p>Jameson’s house was gone. Burned to the foundation. He picked through the ashes to where J’s room had been and found a black lump he thought was the bed he’d woken in just that morning. He traced his way through the hall and found the trapdoor for the shelter Linda and Richard had installed under the house. </p><p>
  <em> They’re fine. Maybe they’re just scared to come out.  </em>
</p><p>Linda had given him the passcode to the lock on the door. He entered it and opened the hatch. </p><p>And promptly stumbled back and landed in the hot ash, a scream escaping his throat. </p><p>Inside the shelter, Linda and Richard sat with their arms around their children. Jameson sat in his mother’s arms, his omni-tool still glowing, the cursor blinking after the words ‘I love’ typed into the message bar. To him. His last thought was Lukas. </p><p>They’d cooked in there, the heat from the fire too much for the shelter to keep out, and they’d roasted alive. He couldn’t imagine it. Didn’t want to imagine it. Didn’t want to listen to the messages, hear the terror in his boyfriend’s voice, perhaps listen to him die. Jameson had burned to death while he slept. </p><p>Lukas buried his face in his filthy hands and wept.</p><p>After what felt like hours, he clambered out of the ruin and slogged down the deserted street towards Luna’s. They had a safe room under the stairs. Maybe their house didn’t burn. Maybe he at least had Matt. He had to know. Hope leapt in his chest when he saw the house missing the front wall but still standing.</p><p>“Matt? Matthew!” he shouted, picking his way over the remainder of the crumbled edifice into the living room. </p><p>Silence answered. </p><p>He ran to the hall and stopped. The safe room door hung crooked on its hinges, half-open, as if it had been torn open by an angry giant. He crept forward, not knowing if he wanted to look. He called out for his brother again, wishing for even the dubious protection of the skate, but he’d lost it somewhere along the way. </p><p>The room was empty but for a small gold necklace puddled in the floor. Matthew’s cross. He never took it off. He’d been here. So where the hell was he? </p><p>Lukas grabbed the necklace and went back out to the street, feeling more lost than he ever had been. With nothing else to go on, he made the interminable trek back to his house, hoping against hope that someone would be there. Maybe they’d gotten away. Maybe they’d been trying to get back to him. He should have left a note so they knew he was alive.</p><p>But when he arrived, the house was just as he’d left it. No one was here. Something told him no one would ever be here again. </p><p>He was going to die here. Alone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Hold the Light" by Dierks Bentley</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Rearview Town</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It ain’t nothin’ but a rearview town, broken hearts and rusted plows, roots ripped right up out of the ground. Never thought I’d ever leave it. It ain’t nothin’ what it used to be. Population minus me. On the other side of that dust cloud ain’t nothin’ but a rearview town.</p><hr/><p>Thirty hours after the raid began, the Alliance finally arrived. Soldiers poured into town, no doubt alerted by the colony’s outpost before it was wiped out. When he’d realized no one would be coming, Lukas had left a note just in case and gone out scouting again, this time in the hopes that he’d find his family at the outpost. Instead, he’d found the soldiers slaughtered outside the settlement and the outpost destroyed. If even they hadn’t survived, how the hell had he?</p><p>The soldier who found him listlessly eating a sandwich alone at his kitchen table cried when she saw him. No hysterics, but he hadn’t missed the tears tracking down her cheeks inside her helmet. He didn’t know what <em> she </em> was crying for. He was the one who’d lost everybody. </p><p>After finding the outpost, he’d come home again. He’d tried the internet and had found breathless reports on the invasion, most of which stopped shortly before he’d woken. No one had replied to his emails. He couldn’t find a single active chat room or forum in Felicity or anywhere else. He’d tried the extranet, but it wouldn’t connect. </p><p>What did one do when he found himself suddenly all alone in the world, everyone he knew gone or dead, cut off from the rest of humanity? He wandered around, jumping at every noise, imagining it was someone coming in or the batarians had finally tracked him down and come for him. He almost would have welcomed them. </p><p>There was still power. The batarians hadn’t gone for the infrastructure, it seemed. They’d just cut them off from outside and hammered them directly. As long as it lasted, he didn’t have to worry about food or water. But if he got hurt or sick, he was screwed. Might not be a bad thing, though. How long did he really want to live here, and did he really want to live anywhere else?</p><p>He’d eaten when his stomach complained. He’d curled up in his parents’ bed and cried. He’d destroyed the useless vid screen. The channels were all black. No one real was on. He’d hidden in his closet, convinced they were going to come back for him. He’d curled up in his brother’s bed and cried. He’d listened to Jameson’s messages and his family’s and thrown up what food he’d choked down and cried some more. What he didn’t do was sleep.</p><p>Now, he didn’t think he had any tears left. It was a wonder he hadn’t already drowned in the ocean of them. So let her cry. Let <em>her </em>feel it. He couldn’t feel anything anymore. He didn’t <em>want </em>to feel anything anymore.</p><p>When they confirmed he was the only one left alive and loaded him onto the shuttle, he looked back at what was left of his home.  <em> It ain’t nothin’ but a rearview town, broken hearts and rusted plows, roots ripped right up out of the ground. Never thought I’d ever leave it. </em> He didn’t bother singing it. There was no one left to sing to, no one left he felt anything for. </p><p>The shuttle took them to a ship where everyone was too nice and a shrink tried to get him to talk about what had happened. He didn’t want to talk about it. What did that arsehole know, anyway? What did anybody know about what it was like to literally sleep through the end of the world? He never wanted to sleep again.</p><p>He didn’t bother to ask where they were going. He didn’t bother to answer their questions. They scanned him and figured out his name, but he didn’t care whether they knew it or not. His life was over. God only knew why he was still breathing, and he had some serious shit to say to that motherfucker.</p><p>He’d promised to keep Jameson safe. Instead, he’d slept. He’d slept while everyone he loved died. </p><p>Why? Why did this happen? Why was he still here? Why keep moving? </p><p>Everything that mattered was gone. Everyone he knew was gone. These strangers weren’t even from the same world. They might as well have been aliens in human skin. And now he’d go to some alien world to live with more strangers. He should have ended it on Mindoir.</p><p>He disembarked the ship when they told him to and was greeted by a woman with Mum’s face. </p><p>The sky was blue. That was the first thing he noticed, and then only because he had the sudden visceral certainty that he was going to fall off the ground and get lost in it. He’d float and float, untethered from everything, up and up until he was lost in space. It made him want to hug the ground until he realized that it would mean he’d be done. One way or another, he’d be done. Unless this really <em> was </em> his personal hell.</p><p>“Lukas,” she said, “you may not remember us. I’m your Aunt Julia. This is your Uncle Vasili. Hannah is—was—my sister.”  </p><p>He’d seen her on vid calls, but he didn’t know her. She’d never been to Mindoir. He’d never been to Earth. He’d never wanted to. </p><p>Silently, he accompanied them to their home, gazing listlessly out the window at the skyline of a city the likes of which he’d seen only in vids and on the extranet. Leeds didn’t seem to know when it was supposed to be. Stone buildings centuries old stood side by side with glass and steel monstrosities. Nothing was prefab. Everything, old or new, was permanent. They didn’t have cities like this. Even New Paris was tiny compared to this. </p><p>It was cold. Colder than the ice rink. And white stuff he assumed was snow blanketed everything. It never snowed on Mindoir. Not where people lived, at least. That much might be nice. He didn’t like being hot. Jameson would have hated it. Not enough sunshine. J was—had been—like a lizard, drawn to heat. </p><p>The house his aunt and uncle lived in was bigger even than Jameson’s, and only for the two of them. What did they do with all the space? he wondered without really caring about the answer. The bedroom they gave him was bigger than his living room back home, and the bed was as big as his parents’ half a galaxy away.</p><p>He sank down onto the bed as the full weight of it hit him. He was light years from home, multiple relay jumps, far enough that he’d probably never get to go back. He’d never see it. He’d never see Mum or Da, Matt or J.T. He’d never sign goofy shit for A.J. or hold Jameson again. He’d never pass notes in Ms. Boyd’s bio class again. </p><p>His breath came in rapid, panicked gasps. Grabbing a pillow, he buried his face in it and screamed and screamed until he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t do this. It was too much. Too big. How was he supposed to survive this? He was going to go insane. His mind was unraveling, untethered from everything he knew. Who even was he when everything that made him <em> him </em> was gone? When no one else alive remembered it? Did it really happen? Did his brothers even exist if no one knew them? </p><p>He was going crazy. He should have died on Mindoir. He didn’t want to be here. He wasn’t supposed to be here.</p><p>“Breathe, Lukas,” Julia’s voice cut through the panic, so much like his mother’s that he half-expected to look up and find her waking him from a nightmare. </p><p>“I can’t. I can’t do this. It’s too big. I can’t.”</p><p>“You can because you must,” she said, not unkindly. “You must control the pain. Do not let it control you. Wrangle it, rule it, school it into a box and lock it. Then <em> you </em> control when the box opens and how much. You decide when to look into it, when to leave it closed. It is your box. Your pain.”</p><p>“How?”</p><p>“Numbness is your friend. Embrace it. Let it protect you. Let it comfort you. Don’t look at the rest of your life. Look at today. Then tomorrow. Then the next until you can look out and see only this life and not the one you lost.”</p><p>“You’re not going to tell me I should let God take it?” he asked bitterly.</p><p>“Fft. No. What did he do for Hannah? That anger, though? Keep that out of the box. Hone it. Learn to wield it and it will be the most powerful thing you have.”</p><p>A voice in the back of his mind whispered that she was wrong, that her way was wrong, that what she offered would only hurt him in the long run. He shushed it. What she offered him was a life preserver when he was drowning. </p><p>Numb. Numbness would be a blessing.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Rearview Town by Jason Aldean<br/>I literally slept through a tornado once. It went right down my street and I had no clue. My parents carried me to the bathroom and bunkered down with me and everything and said I didn't even stir. But when I woke up, I'd dreamed about it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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